The dilemmas of teenage life seem, at the time, to be insurmountable ones that adults just don’t understand. I laugh about it all now, of course, and especially when my own children pour out their own tales of woe and worry – I laugh inwardly, I hasten to add! Outwardly, I try to be sympathetic.

My parents must have done the same with me. Certainly, when I was 16-years-old back in 1982, the great problems of my life, in no particular order were:

– How do I keep my place on the school football team?

– How do I pluck up the courage to ask Maxine O’Neil out on a date?

– How can I pretend to my dad, who is a Maths teacher, that my studies are going well and I don’t need any extra tuition from him?

– How do I get to see both Duran Duran and ABC in concert when I can only afford to buy a ticket for one of them?

Both bands were scheduled to appear in Glasgow, within a week of each other, at the famous Apollo venue in the city. Duran Duran were playing on October 31st and ABC on November 5th. For reasons that have been lost in the mists of time, I opted for the latter and so used my hard-earned cash from delivering newspapers to purchase a ticket to see ABC.

I have to confess that every time Duran Duran have come to Glasgow since then, I have gone to see them, and I enjoy each concert more than the last one. I think that’s because it reminds me of being a teenager again, and a lot of memories come flooding back… of a time before marriage, children, mortgage, middle-age, grey hair – no hair!

Sometimes I’ve thought back to 1982 and wish that I’d chosen to go and see Duran Duran rather than ABC, to have seen them at the height of their initial success – it was the Rio Tour – and then I could compare them now to then.

Yet, maybe I made the right choice? ABC as a band never stood the test of time and so I was able to see them while I could, whereas Duran Duran are still going, and still going strong. I still listen to their albums, I still go to their concerts… after a few drinks, I even get the acoustic guitar out and sing a version of Rio which, in my head, sounds fantastic… that may be the wonders of alcohol, however!

So when I occasionally hear an ABC song on the radio, I remember that 16-year-old who only had enough money to buy one concert ticket… and whose parents probably laughed at such a dilemma.

And just for the record on my other teenage dilemmas:

– I just about managed to keep my place on the school team – only because there were only ever eleven players who turned up for the game.

– I asked Maxine O’Neil out, she said yes, and we went out for a few months.

– I told my dad I was fine with Maths and didn’t need any help. I sat the exam. I failed it. My dad didn’t talk to me for a week after I got my results. He laughs about it now, though.

The 2014 World Cup kicks off on June 12 when hosts Brazil play Croatia. It’s a month of football, glorious football to watch, culminating in the final on July 13. There won’t be much else on my telly box for the duration of the tournament.

Ahead of this feast of football, I’ve chosen five football books that are well worth reading. Three of them are World Cup-related, while two are just wonderful books about the sport which will, hopefully, put you in the mood for the football extravaganza ahead.

SPAIN: THE INSIDE STORY OF LA ROJA’S HISTORIC TREBLE: Graham HunterFor me, this is a must-read ahead of World Cup 2014. It tells the story of Spain’s triumphs in the past two European Championships and the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. The story is fascinating one, and Graham Hunter’s unique access to the Spanish national squad ensures that it is an enthralling read. It gives an insight into every aspect of Spain’s preparations for a major tournament and why they’ve been successful before. It could also be the same reasons why they may enjoy further success this summer. The book has fascinating interviews with many of the key participants in their treble triumph, and Graham Hunter’s skill is being able to take you right to the heart of the Spanish national set-up. Hunter’s previous book, Barca, on the making of the greatest team in the world, was an excellent tome. This book on Spain is even better.

SCOTLAND 74: Richard GordonFor Scotland football fans, the 1978 World Cup is the one most remembered with regret. An excellent Scottish team had travelled to Argentina with high hopes of winning the tournament, only for that optimism unravel due to events on and off the part. Richard Gordon’s book on the previous campaign is also a tale of ‘What if,’ and, in many respects, this is the tournament of regrets for Scotland, with a more genuine chance of progressing far in the competition, if not actually winning it, squandered. The 1974 tournament was my first real memory of the World Cup, and to have your own country competing in it only made it more captivating to an eight-year-old football fan. Whether 1974 was a missed, and perhaps only opportunity, to succeed on the international stage is a moot point, although, for me, in finishing this superb book, I kept thinking, what would have happened if Scotland had selected Jimmy Johnstone for any of their three games…

FUTEBOL: THE BRAZILIAN WAY OF LIFE: Alex BellosSomewhere in Brazil, there is probably a football fan reading my copy of this book right now. I’d loaned the book to a friend who was heading to Brazil on a work trip. He then passed it on to someone he met out there – spreading the good word, I suppose, although it’s precisely at this time that I would like to have had it in my possession to read again. Alex Bellos’ book is a fascinating look at what football means to Brazil, delving deeper than just the superstars of Brazilian football or their five previous World Cup triumphs, although he goes into detail about those players and tournaments. Charles Miller, the son of a Scottish engineer, is widely credited with bringing football to Brazil and, in turn, the country gave the world the beautiful game. Come to think of it, I gave my copy of Josh Lacey’s book on Miller to the same friend, who was just as generous in dispensing with it… I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned there!

FEVER PITCH: Nick HornbyEvery list of top football books should include Fever Pitch. There should be a rule about it. Maybe there is. Nick Hornby’s book remains the benchmark of football fan memoirs – many have tried to imitate it but very few have succeeded in even coming close to matching the joyful brilliance of the book. It encapsulates the obsessive nature of being a football fan, the joy of winning and the despair of losing, and how, if you allow it to, it takes over your life. It remains a wonderful read and also proof that the book is better than the film – Colin Firth as a football fan? That was about as convincing as Robert Duvall’s Scottish accent in the wonderfully appalling football film, A Shot At Glory.

THE THISTLE AND THE GRAIL: Robin JenkinsGood football novels are hard to find. Great novels are almost non-existent. The Thistle And The Grail by Robin Jenkins is perhaps the exception that proves the rule. This is, like all of Jenkins’ books, a wonderful novel, which just happens to be about football. It tells the story of Drumsagart Thistle’s quest to win the Scottish Junior Cup. Jenkins succeeds where other writers, whether in books or films, have failed, in managing to make the football captivating while also realising that the story is actually about the characters. Jock Stein famously said that football without the fans is nothing. It’s a sentiment I’m sure that Robin Jenkins would have most wholeheartedly agreed with.

WILLY THE WIZARD: Anthony BrowneI can’t write about football books without mentioning Willy the Wizard by the genius who is Anthony Browne. Get this book. NOW! Even if you don’t have children. It tells the story of Willy the chimp who finds a pair of old football boots which give him incredible skills on the pitch. And if that’s not enough, Willy also wears the green and white Hoops! What more do you want from a book?

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now and is available to buy on Amazon. And I’m tipping Argentina to win the World Cup!

Bloody foreigners … coming over here with their brilliantly-written books and educating and entertaining our children. What are they like? Coming here and forcing their classic works of literature with moving plots, captivating characters and powerful social messages upon us. Bloody foreigners.

Weekend news reports claim that the UK’s Education Secretary, Michael Gove, is set to change the English syllabus for schools in England and Wales so that only works by British authors, many of them pre-twentieth century books, are to be taught to pupils.

This means that novels such as The Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice And Men, The Catcher in the Rye and To Kill A Mockingbird will no longer be taught in schools.

At first I thought it was a joke, or perhaps a UKIP policy that was being wrongly credited to the British government, but then I remembered that UKIP just want to get rid of any Romanian literature from schools … well, at least for just now.

Regardless of your position on the forthcoming Scottish Referendum, be thankful that education is a devolved power because we most definitely wouldn’t be better together if this attitude was enforced on our education system.

I’m happy for any country to celebrate its cultural heritage and that Scottish schools, for example, teach Scottish literature, and we have a wonderful heritage of great books as well as vibrant and thriving literary community right now.

But it shouldn’t be an exclusive syllabus or at the exclusion of great books from around the world, including some of the titles I mentioned above.

I recently did an interview for a podcast called Desert Island Tims. I was given the Complete Works of The Dandy and a Bible to take to the ‘island’, and was then asked to choose another book. My choice was The Grapes of Wrath. It is a brilliant book, regardless of the nationality of the author or the setting of the story.

Similarly, I’ve mentioned in previous blogs about one of my favourite memories from school – studying Catch 22 in my fifth-year English class.

Education should be about expanding young people’s minds and their horizons, not narrowing it on the whim of one person’s idea of what is the right thing to be taught. It’s difficult enough to get people to read now, given the number of different, mainly electronic distractions, on offer, and schools should be trying to foster a love of literature rather than an aversion to it.

I don’t imagine teachers in England will welcome this policy, and it reinforces the belief that most political interventions into education are ill-thought out and ill-advised.

And should Scotland vote for independence in September, would that mean a foreigner in Edinburgh-born Michael Gove would be dictating education policy in England. Just as long as he doesn’t come up here and meddle in our system.

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now and is available to buy on Amazon. And I’ve read books from all over the world in it!

I’ve been reading a book on my mobile phone. Even just writing that sentence jars with me. It’s not right, is it? I’ve accepted that the brave new world of ebooks is here to stay and, I’ve even embraced it to a certain degree, certainly during my summer holidays, but books on phones?

Curiosity got the better of me after my brother-in-law explained to me that he regularly reads books on his mobile phone. I downloaded the Kindle app and then synchronised it with my Amazon account. As if by magic, my books now appeared on the phone.

I started reading The Last Bookstore in America by Amy Stewart. It bills itself as ‘a comic novel about the future of books and bookstores,’ so it is appropriate, or perhaps ironic, that this is the book I’ve chosen to read on my phone. In the novel, traditional books are dying, suddenly obsolete in the face of a new e-book innovation – the Gizmo – which is also leading to the annihilation of book stores in the United States.

Lewis Hartman inherits a book store in the town of Eureka in California which continues to thrive despite just about every other store being in terminal decline, and its inexplicable success inevitably attracts attention from politicians, businessmen, crooks and the federal authorities.

The book is, indeed, quite funny while it also does make the reader think about books and book stores (or, since I’m in Scotland, book shops). Perhaps an even bigger irony than me reading the book on a mobile phone is the fact that The Last Bookstore in America is only available as an ebook.

I feel guilty, and slightly unnerved, to admit that reading on my mobile phone was not an altogether unpleasant experience. I dipped in and out of the book. whenever circumstances allowed. I read it at the dentist’s while sitting with a sense of dread for the dentist to beckon me into her room, or when I was at the local Indian restaurant, waiting for my takeaway order to be cooked. There were a couple of nights when I read it in bed, under the covers because I’d been asked (ordered) to turn off my bedside lamp. I felt like a child again – no, not because of being chastised – and I was shining a torch on a Roald Dahl book while continuing to remain alert for any sound of approaching parents.

Still, it will come as no surprise when I tell you that, just like the Kindle, my mobile phone is no substitute for an actual physical book. It’s too small for a start, and it just feels like a phone in my hand rather than a book – yes, I know I’m stating the obvious – and when I’m reading, there’s always some inconsiderate person texting or calling me.

Is it the future? I hope not, although I did a cursory Google search and discovered that over 25million people in China only use their mobile phones to read books, which is a phenomenal figure. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that Katie Melua once told us that there are nine million bicycles in Beijing, which is a fact, apparently; maybe she can write a follow-up about mobile phone readers?

The fact that people are reading at all should, I suppose, be worthy of celebration, though I worry that, as a nation of mobile phone users, reading on the phone will become much more appealing that actually going into a book shop (or store!), picking a book up, looking through it and then buying it.

My bigger fear, however, is that, if mobile phone reading continues to increase in popularity, then it’s only a matter of time before we get ‘text-speak’ novels. I, for one, won’t be laughing out loud then.

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now and is available to buy on Amazon.

Teachers are great. I might be slightly biased here, given that both my parents were teachers, but I still think they do an invaluable, but too often undervalued job.

The terrible news from Leeds this week of the teacher who was killed in her classroom made me think back to my own schooldays, and in particular some of the teachers who made a lasting impression on me.

There was Eugene Meehan, our headteacher from St Helen’s Primary in Bishopbriggs. In particular, I remember the Friday morning school assembly when, after all the various announcements and prize-givings, he would produce a beautiful book of fairy tales and read to the whole school, and an entire hall of pupils aged between 5 and 12 sat in silence, enthralled by the stories. You could tell, even then, that he was a man who loved his school and his vocation as a teacher.

When I went to Turnbull High School, I remember Mr O’Brien, a history teacher who took the school football team in second and third year. We reached the semi-final of the Scottish Schools Shield one season, losing to the eventual winners after a second replay at a neutral venue. It was the high point of my football career. Our teacher not only put together a good team, but he also fostered a great spirit amongst a group of teenage boys that gave us a real sense of camaraderie – even if most of us didn’t even know that such a word existed back then.

And then there were the English teachers. Mr Morgan in fourth year who came in one day with a large tape recorder – remember, it was 1981! Then he handed sheets round the class, a poem called ‘Waterloo Sunset’. Once everyone had a copy he sat down, plonked his feet on the desk, turned the tape recorder on, and Ray Davies’ voice filled the classroom.

It was the most amazing song, and studying the lyrics as a poem for our ‘O’ Grade English class was brilliant. I still have the original sheet from that class, and Mr Morgan was years ahead of Michelle Pfeiffer, who did much the same thing in Dangerous Minds, although I don’t need to state that she was a lot easier on the eye!

The following year there was Peter McGhee, my fifth-year English teacher, who gave us Catch 22 to read, and who also encouraged creative writing in class. He was a real inspiration to me in terms of my reading and writing and that was my absolute favourite class in 12 years of schooling.

Ann Maguire, the teacher who died in the Leeds school this week, was, like so many teachers, much-loved by pupils past and present, and I’m sure many of them have wonderful memories of time spent in her classroom.

Teachers, the best of them, inspire as well as educate, and that can leave an impression which lasts a lifetime… and, no, my mum and dad didn’t tell me to write this!

I’ve been invited by one of my writer friends, Helen MacKinven, to take part in a series of blog posts where writers nominate others to answer four key questions about their writing process. It’s a great idea, and it’s always interesting to hear from other authors about how, what, where, when and why they write. My answers could be the exception that proves the rule! Helen’s answers, however, are very interesting and you can read them HERE

And now you can read my answers below…

What am I working on?I’m writing the first draft of a novel – well, not right now, obviously, as I’m writing this blog – but that’s what I’m working on. I’d previously written a trilogy of historical novels, and then more recently a non-fiction book, Read All About It, which details my year of trying to fall in love with literature again. So now I want to write something a bit more contemporary. It’s set in South America, which is all I’m prepared to tell you at this precise moment. ‘Write what you know’ is one of the first pieces of advice given to writers, so I’ve decided to totally ignore that and just go for it with this novel! I stumbled upon the idea when I was doing research for another potential novel, and it stuck in my head to the point where I felt I had to start writing it as much as wanting to write it. I’m also trying to put together a collection of short stories inspired by Duran Duran song titles. And that’s not a joke, by the way! I’m trying to combine my love of writing and Duran Duran’s music into the perfect short story collection (for me!). How can I possibly fail?

How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Well, in the genre of short stories inspired by Duran Duran song titles, I believe that I am a trailblazer. I have to admit that I’ve never really targeted a particular genre when writing. My novels were historical fiction simply because that was the story I thought of. Occasionally, when I’ve sat bemoaning my lack of commercial success with my novels, I’ve been tempted to go down the road of writing something in a genre that seems to sell well – crime or romance. But I quickly realise that’s not the right way to approach writing. In fact, it’s completely the wrong way since I’m sure my story will lack conviction and readers would see right through it. So I just write what inspires me and live in hope that the next big thing in publishing will be short stories inspired by Duran Duran song titles.

Why do I write what I do?
I’m guessing that, like most writers, I write books that I’d like to read. Actually I write books that I hope other people will like to read. I’m still guilty of getting an idea for a novel and thinking that it’s the greatest idea ever. My mind starts imagining that the whole world will want to read it and I’ll be showered with Booker Prizes and Nobel Prizes and all sorts of prizes. And I start writing with a real sense of enthusiasm which, as anyone will tell you, is always hard to sustain. I have to keep telling myself to take it one idea at a time.

How does my writing process work?
I like to have a plan before I start writing. It doesn’t necessarily have to be too detailed, but I find it helpful to refer to it every now and then, and it’s more of a guide rather than something set in stone. The story invariably changes as I’m writing. In terms of actually writing, I try to write early in the morning or at night, but there are not enough hours in the day. Well, there are, but I can’t devote them all to my own writing. I’m always envious of those lucky people who are able to devote all their time to their own writing, and also more than a little irritated when I hear them moaning about all the ‘work’ they have to do. Oh to be so lucky.

And now the virtual ‘baton’ is passed to Margot McCuaig to write the next blog post. Margot is a friend of mine who wrote a wonderful novel, The Birds That Never Flew, which came out last year. You really should read it. You should also follow her on Twitter @MargotMcCuaig even if only for her morning weather reports which, in 140 characters, make the Glasgow weather poetic and almost Here are a few more words about Margot…

Margot McCuaig’s debut novel ‘The Birds That Never Flew’ was shortlisted for the Dundee International Book Prize in 2012 and was published in 2013. She is currently writing her second novel. She also writes, produces and directs for television and chats a wee bit about herself and her world HERE

Hands up who can remember the good old days of corporal punishment in Scottish schools? If you’re sitting reading this with your arm in the air then you’re old, maybe as old as me. You might even be older.

I did receive the belt on a number of occasions when I was at school. I remember being in primary seven when I fell foul of our teacher. Friday afternoon was designated ‘story time’, and the teacher would read to us for the last hour of the day. The book she’d chosen was Master of Morgana by Allan Campbell McLean, a wonderful adventure story set on the Scottish island of Skye.

It was thrilling, exciting, dangerous and utterly captivating. After three weeks, I couldn’t wait another seven days for the next instalment, so straight after school on the Friday I headed to the local library and borrowed the book, spending the whole weekend reading it. When I returned to school on Monday morning, not only did I boast about finishing the book, I foolishly revealed what happened in it to the rest of my classmates. When the teacher found out, I was hauled to the front of the class and belted.

For years afterwards, I remained appalled that I had actually been punished for showing some initiative and reading in my own time. If anything was ever likely to put me off reading, then it was this incident. Of course, with age comes wisdom (hopefully) and I now realise that I was punished for being a smart-arse and ruining the book for everyone else.

A small memento from my time at Turnbull High School

Primary school punishments were always unlikely to stop me reading, though teenage angst and apathy could easily have done so. It was a problem when I was at school and it remains so to this day – how do you get teenagers, and boys in particular, to read? My suggestion, while not solving the issue, might help … give them something to read that they might enjoy. I apologise to any English teacher reading this because I know it sounds flippant, and with a teenage son who does not read books at all, I know how difficult it is, but I think more care in the subject matter would help, and that’s advice equally applicable to parents and teachers.

I just remember my own experience of secondary school and our fifth-year Higher English class. While the girls were given D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers to study, the boys were handed Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. It was an inspired choice by our teacher, Peter McGhee, and a class of fifteen and sixteen-year-old boys were suddenly engrossed in a book that was, first of all, hilarious and salacious, but one that, upon closer study, was also profoundly moving. It was still the funny bits that got us at that age.

I love that book, and the experience of that class, and it remains one of my fondest memories from just over five years spent at Turnbull High School, so much so that I still retain the copy I was given back in 1982. Technically, I suppose you could call that stealing, but is there not some sort of statute of limitations when it comes to these things? I’d also like to meet Peter McGhee again and shake his hand, maybe buy him a pint, and tell him that I think he probably helped to make lifetime readers of all the boys who were in that class.

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now and is available to buy on Amazon.

A happy Saint Patrick’s Day to one and all on March 17, and for this week’s blog, I decided to choose five of my favourite books by Irish writers, with the stories also set in Ireland.

Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha: Roddy Doyle
This is my favourite Roddy Doyle novel, and the one which won Booker Prize for the author back in 1993. After the Barrytown Trilogy, this could be seen as Doyle’s first ‘serious’ novel, although there is still plenty of humour in the book. Set in Dublin of the late 1960s, it tells the story of ten-year-old Paddy Clarke and the events which happen in his life – on the streets with his friends and siblings, at school and in the home. Like much of Doyle’s work, the narrative is dialogue-driven, and getting Paddy’s voice absolutely perfect ensures a wonderful read.

Ireland A Novel: Frank Delaney
This is a brilliant book, one of those that you can’t put down but then mourn when it’s finished. When Ronan O’Mara is just nine-years-old, a storyteller turns up at his home. In return for food and lodgings for three nights, the storyteller – the last in a centuries-old tradition – provides magical tales of kings and saints. Ronan is captivated, and for the rest of his life, searches on and off for the elusive storyteller. It’s a wonderful book, and tells the history of Ireland as much as it’s a personal story of Ronan’s life.

Amongst Women: John McGahern
It was the Tricolour emblazoned on the front cover which first caught my eye, and it really was a case of judging the book by its cover. The novel centres of Michael Moran, now an elderly man, and the relationships he has with the women in his life – his second wife and his daughters. Once a prominent Republican, who found in the war of independence in the 1920s, Moran was also a domineering figure in the family, although as he weakens physically, that position shifts and changes. Amongst Women is a brilliant portrayal of a Catholic family in rural Ireland, and of the politics of the nation.

The Butcher Boy: Patrick McCabe
This is a deceptively dark and brutal story of a schoolboy in 1960s Ireland, Francie Brady, who retreats into a violent fantasy world as his troubled home life collapses. What makes the novel all the more powerful is that Francie as narrator is engaging, entertaining and almost likeable. We get drawn into his tough and sometimes heartbreaking world, which makes what happens in the book all the more shocking. The book was also turned into an excellent film, which saw Sinead O’Connor appear as Our Blessed Lady. Read the book and then watch the film. You’ll enjoy both.

Cal: Bernard MacLaverty
Scotland sometimes tries to claim Bernard MacLaverty for ourselves, given that he has resided on this side of the water for many years, but he’s Belfast born and this superb novel is set in the north during the Troubles. Published in 1983, it has also become a regular book on the school syllabus. The story concerns Cal, who was the getaway driver during an IRA operation in which a police officer was killed. To complicate matters, he finds himself falling in love with the policeman’s widow. Cal is a powerful and poetic book, and well worth reading.

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now and is available to buy on Amazon.

I was recently on holiday in Lanzarote. Have I mentioned that already? Sorry, but it was a wonderful break. One of the books I read while sitting by the pool sipping a beer was The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick. I’d watched the film last year and thought it was superb – Jennifer Lawrence won an Oscar for her performance while Bradley Cooper was nominated.

The book, I’m happy to report, is excellent too, and while the big screen adaptation does make some changes to aspects of the story, it has remained quite faithful to the source material.

I don’t know if Matthew Quick was happy or not with the film. I’d like to think that he doesn’t actually care, having pocketed cash for the film rights and undoubtedly seen an increase in sales on the back of the film. The fact that the adaptation is a very good one is just an added bonus. I have occasionally read articles about what is better – the book or the film? There is no debate, since every sane and sensible person knows that the book is always better, even when it’s not, just because it’s a book.

I can’t actually think of any occasion where I’ve preferred the film version of the story to the written one, although Field of Dreams, which is the film version of WP Kinsella’s wonderful novel, Shoeless Joe, comes pretty close.

In the past I’ve worried whenever a favourite book has been made into a film, but I’ve come to accept that they are two separate entities, and it’s near enough impossible for a film to stick rigidly to everything contained within a book.

And here’s the dilemma for a writer. If I’m lucky enough to get a call from Hollywood offering me suitcases full of cash for the rights to any of my novels, should I insist on a faithful adaptation to maintain my artistic integrity, or should I just take the money? Those of you who know me will already know the answer to that one…

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now. It’s extremely unlikely to be turned into a film now or in the future.

I’m just back from a week’s holiday in Lanzarote, having felt the need for some warm weather training ahead of writing my next novel. Well, if it’s good enough for footballers, then surely writers deserve the same treatment? Seven days in the sunshine, sitting by the pool with a beer in one hand and a book in the other … life doesn’t get much better than that.

Okay, so it wasn’t actually a book in my hand – it was about one hundred and forty-five, since I had my Kindle with me. My year of reading more books only confirmed what I already knew – I love books. I really do. I love the feel of them, how they look. Before I lost my sense of smell, I loved their odour too. I will always come down on the side of the physical book rather than the e-book. But my Kindle has become a regular holiday companion, not least because it gives my luggage allowance a healthy boost.

I’ve always been curious as to what other people read, and being on holiday usually allows a glimpse into the reading habits of my fellow sun-worshippers. People read more on holiday. I’m sure that, for some people, it’s the only time of the year they pick up a book. I try not to pass judgement on anyone’s reading choices, not even the year when every second person seemed to be reading the autobiography of Katie Price (Jordan). Okay, so maybe I did sit at the hotel pool thinking that I was better than everyone who was reading that book but I never said it out loud, and that’s got to count for something.

But it’s more difficult now because of the increase in electronic devices – mainly Kindles and iPads – so people could be reading anything – porn… sorry, erotic fiction, Mills & Boon, maybe even a Katie Price novel, which is surely an oxymoron! In a Daily Telegraph column, literary critic Tom Payne offered an interesting perspective on why we read on holiday, including a short, but fascinating, history lesson.

‘We are evolving into a species that reads on holiday. We want to travel light, but to expand our minds. It has taken us years to reach a point at which we can do it well. As with so many advances in civilisation, the Romans had almost achieved what we have, only for their progress to be eclipsed by the Dark Ages. They had travel scrolls, and Martial mentions that huntsmen would pack them into string bags. Scrolls were tricky to read anywhere except at home, preferably at a table, but at least our forebears tried. These matters became easier with the invention of codices, which had pages.

‘By the sixth century, St Benedict of Nursia could prescribe that his order of monks took a book with them whenever they went on a journey. Some scholars went to great lengths to make literature portable: Abdul Kassem Ismael, the 10th-century Grand Vizier of Persia, travelled with 400 camels following him, each in alphabetical order, to bear his library of 117,000 books.’

While I often marvel at the wonders of twenty-first century technology that allows me to carry hundreds of books in my hand, it suddenly seems less impressive compared to Abdul Kassem Ismael and his four hundred camels trudging through the desert in alphabetical order… and he needed more camels since the Persian alphabet has thirty-two letters. Apparently the Grand Vizier was such an avid reader that he couldn’t bear to leave home without all his books – I know the feeling – although it must have been a nightmare finding all those grains of sand between the pages.

I read a lot of books during my week in Lanzarote – seven in total, which included one that I was already halfway through when we flew out from Glasgow. The highlights were the first two books in Peter May’s Lewis Trilogy (of which I’ll write more later). Suffice to say, now that I’ve returned to sunny Scotland, I’ll be starting the third and final part of the trilogy straight away, and going back to a good, old-fashioned paperback too.

My new book, Read All About It: My Year Of Falling In Love With Literature, is out now.